Post by ANGELICA BLAIR CORBIN on Mar 13, 2013 16:59:57 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 400px; background-image: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/ngx4hu.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius: 220px 220px 0px 0px; border: 0px solid #414141;] angelica blair corbin twenty-four | 2011 | female | accident | karen gillan Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there. I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Angelica. Angelica Corbin. I suppose you’re wondering how I came to be here. Everyone always asks that. Not that I mind! I’ll tell you. Hmm… I wonder where to start. I guess with my birth? My childhood? Well, I was an only child. My mom was a grade school teacher. It was just me and her. My dad left us when I was four. Last I heard he had another family in Arizona. It was really better off with just me and mom. She worked hard, so as I got older I took on most of the house work so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. That was probably the extent of my maturity, though. I did all the classic teenage rebel stuff: stayed out late with boys, drank, smoked, and partied a little too hard. In my mind, it all balanced out. I was responsible at home, so I was entitled to a little irresponsibility outside the house. It drove Mom crazy. She’d say I was her fallen Angel, though it was more a joke than anything else. She saw my actions for what they were: I was testing my boundaries and trying to have a little fun. I didn’t want to party all my life, and she knew that. I guess that’s why she never got on my case too hard about it; she knew I had to just get it out of my system. Besides, she always knew I was safe wherever I was, because Logan would be there. Ah. Logan. I’d been best friends with him since I was four. It was just after my father left and mom and I had had to move to a new place. Logan was my new neighbour. He came over with his mom, who’d brought cookies and offered to help unpack. That may seem odd, but Nancy’s just that sort of person, always helping others when she can… Anyways, after an hour of awkwardness as we studied each other, Logan and I hit it off and had been inseparable ever since. Throughout all my crazy days of teenage rebellion, Logan never strayed from my side, even though partying was never really his thing. He was always such a quiet kid. He was so reserved with almost everyone. Everyone but me. I don’t know when I realized it. It was after high school, maybe a couple months into that summer. I was feeling directionless and naturally I was talking to Logan about it. It made sense that I didn’t know what I wanted to do, seeing as I’d spent the last four years ignoring school entirely. Really, I was amazed I even graduated. So Logan was going over my options, listing college that had good general programs and didn’t require a high GPA to be admitted and allowed late applications, and it just hit me: Logan loved me. And I don’t mean the best friend kind of love. I mean, sure, it had started out that way, but somewhere along the line it changed. He loved me, he would always love me, and he would always be there when I needed him. And with this came a second epiphany; I felt the same way. I kissed him right then, right in the middle of his sentence. He looked really shocked when I pulled away. I just grinned and told him, “Took me long enough, didn’t it?” And then we were laughing, and there was more kissing, and we were a couple from then on. I did end up going to college. Granted, it was a crummy community college, but I got a diploma that stated I was a fully certified journalist. I wasn’t about to get any job offers from the New York Times or Wallstreet Journal, but I was able to get a comfortable job at the local paper. Good salary, decent benefits, regular hours; I could have done worse. Logan became a nurse. The hours were hard, but we made it work. We got married a year we started working. Mom thought it seemed fast, but she had to admit it felt right. I changed my name from Carling to Corbin and we started saving for a house. I found out I was pregnant a year after that. We were a little more unprepared for that; we hadn’t planned for kids for a few more years. But it worked out. I adore my daughter. I know all mothers must think this, but I feel I’m right when I say she’s absolutely perfect. Jennifer Nancy Corbin; we named her after our mothers. Two years after she was born, we bought ourselves a nice little house, gutted it, and remodeled it into the home we’d always wanted. That was my life. It was simple, but it was good. I truly miss it. That was my life. And this is my death. We were in the car, on our way home from Christmas with our parents; they’re still neighbours, so holidays were always easy. Logan was driving. Jennifer was asleep in her car-seat in the back. I was fiddling with the radio, trying to find something to sing along to. Logan was teasing me to let it be and that I was so tone-deaf I’d wake Jenny with my caterwauling. I countered that I was sorry he had such limited musical knowledge that he couldn’t appreciated the cadence of my voice. We bantered like that for a while playfully. It was like a hundred other car rides we’d had together: light and happy and peaceful. Then the peace shattered with the sound of breaking glass and twisted metal, and everything went black. My memories are in flashes after that. They started as blue and red flashes, then changed to sterile white lights wising past above me. I was in the hospital. I heard someone mention a car crash and a drunk driver. How did I end up at Logan’s work? Was he taking care of the victims? Where was Jenny? More blackness. Logan was beside me then. Everything felt fuzzy but when I tried to move pain cut through the haze, so sharp and fierce I almost faded back to the darkness. Logan’s voice kept me there. I couldn’t feel it, but I know his hand was on my hair, stroking it, soothing me. His right arm was in a sling. I tried to ask what happened and where our daughter was, but only a strange choking sound came out. Logan seemed to understand anyways. He said he was fine, it was just a minor break, and Jennifer was perfectly alright. The doctors had triple checked her, kept her overnight for observation, and had released her with a clean bill of health. She was with my mother in the waiting room and they’d come see me really soon. Logan was crying. He was crying so hard and I knew why and at that moment I just wanted it to end. I knew the longer I lingered he’d have hope, and that it would only crush him all the more when it finally happened. I tried to talk about, slower this time, and softer. He leaned in closer to hear. I love you And then I was gone. It isn’t fair. I really hate it some days. I just want to scream and rage and tear everything in my path. I want to go back: to my life and my husband and daughter. But I can’t, and most days I accept that. Logan will take good care of Jenny. My mom and his parents will help him with that. They will have years ahead of them and time will eventually smooth over my absence from their lives. I wonder if Jenny will even remember me. I hope she will. I do want them to move on. I don’t want them to sacrifice their lives over a shrine for me. I want them to live and laugh and love again. And I suppose that means I should do the same. I shouldn’t focus on the hole in my life once filled by a husband and child. I’m trying to make a life here, if this can be called ‘life’. I’m not sure what to call it. I’m not sure I care. luck | nineteen | five-six years | central canada |
